


Maps of a Myth

by raktajinos



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Female Friendship, Gen, Warrior Women, buffy levels of violence, make it so, minor hurt/comfort, pre-canon Bajoran occupation, space!Buffy, that needs to be a real tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-28
Updated: 2014-08-28
Packaged: 2018-02-15 02:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2213214
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/raktajinos/pseuds/raktajinos
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>no, it was a myth, she was a myth...it couldn't be</i>
</p><p>Or </p><p>The one where Kira meets Buffy in a forest on Bajor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Maps of a Myth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gray Cardinal (Gray_Cardinal)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gray_Cardinal/gifts).



> I went through many many different story ideas for this, some ridiculously cracky and some not so much. I ended up with this and I hope it's as believable for you as it was for me when I imagined it. I also thought space!Buffy (and how much does that need to be a thing?!?) would be a bit a blend of Buffy, Faith and Kendra. 
> 
> Also, it was a joy writing for you again. I hope you enjoy.

With a groan, Nerys pushed her bloodied and torn tunic off her shoulders, hissing as silently as she could at the sharp jolt of pain that shot through her. 

The night was silent around her, barely the hum of the cricatos to be heard on the breeze. She was downwind, naturally, taking respite in a small alcove in the forest, the dew dripping onto her as she rustled into a comfortable position. She needed rest. And medical attention, but her camp was several hours walk from here and she knew she wouldn't make it. Not tonight. Tomorrow though. Maybe. 

She'd been out on a scouting mission, making a path for the caravan she travelled with. They had families and children with them, artists and academics who represented the best of Bajor, who represented the future, but were in no way soldiers. 

But she was. The Occupation turned everyone into a soldier in one way or another. Some more than others. Nerys lived for the fight, hand to hand her best and favourite skill. She liked killing Cardassians and she liked seeing the shock and hatred in their eyes as they realized a Bajoran woman had beaten them; and you couldn't get that moment when you used phasers and other weaponry. Only hand to hand blade work did that. 

Which is what she had done tonight. She was loathe to admit that the Cardassian caught her in a lapse of concentration; she'd been thinking about the tar kaia stew Lai would surely be making back at camp and if she hurried, she could get there to have some. She'd been so wrapped up in the memory of the dish that she didn't hear the silence fall around her, or the unnatural rustling of leaves around her. It wasn't until there was a snap of a branch that she turned around, but it was too late, the Cardassian was on her, long blade centimetres from her throat. 

She was smaller and faster than him, and she darted out of the way, the blade cutting deeply into her shoulder instead. Blood had starting oozing out, but she ignored it, grabbing her own blades, one in each hand and lunged for him. She wasn't sure how long they fought for, it felt like hours but also like mere moments. He'd been good, the Cardassian, lithe and malicious, an expert in where to cut her to cause her the most pain. After the first miss of her throat she realized he wasn't trying to kill her, not yet at least, he preferred to play with her, cutting and injuring her where it hurt the most but didn't cause any serious damage. 

She turned that against him, played weak, making him think he'd hurt her more than he had. When the smirk of satisfaction flickered across his face, she lunged once more, her blade ringing true as it dug into his throat. 

The Cardassian had done significant damage to her, deep knife wounds in her shoulder and arms. She'd had worse and she'd given as good as she'd gotten, leaving the Cardassian a bloody mess on the forest floor. 

Still, she wasn't good, she could rest the night here in the forest, the air blessedly warm in her alcove, but she had to move in the morning or she'd die here. Rooting around in her sachet, Nerys pulled out a small medkit, and removed a small, fingersized piece of plastic. She placed the one end on her neck and pushed it down, the small needle releasing the precious painkiller into her system. She sighed, head falling back against a log and let herself relax, the drug encouraging her to go to sleep. 

-

It was pitch dark when she awoke, the small rays of the evening sun no longer littering the forest floor. Darkness everywhere and it took her a moment to readjust her eyes to it. 

Blackness. And silent. 

-

She awoke the next time to the feel of skin against her face. 

"Hey," a voice said, sounding warbled and distant.

Nerys struggled to open her eyes, and then struggling to focus on the person speaking to her. 

"Well now, you are alive," the person said, bright eyes staring down at her, a wry smile on her face. 

Nerys struggled to sit up more, her body protesting the movement and she bit her lip, letting out a low groan. 

"Nasty wound there," the woman said, Nerys was conscious enough now to see it was a woman. 

"I saw the other guy a few kilos back. Good work," she said. 

Nerys didn't say anything, just staring at this woman. She was small, like herself, with long blond hair pulled back into a tight braid. She was clearly Bajoran, but wore no ceremonial earring. She must have been staring because the blond smiled kindly at her. 

"Hi, I'm Buffy by the way," she said and gave a small bow of her head. 

"Nerys," she said in return, the other woman's name seeming familiar but she couldn't place it. 

"Nice to meet you. You hungry? I always find after a kill I'm starving," she said, pulling a bag from her sachet. 

As if on que, Nerys's stomach growled and Buffy threw her the bag with a grin. Hesitant, Nerys opened the bag, finding inside a selection of cured meats. She picked up a large piece of brown leather and started chewing on it, the salt tasting delicious on her dehydrated tongue. 

"You want me to take a look at that?" Buffy said, her eyes darting to the deep gash on Nerys' shoulder. "No offence, but it looks gross," 

Taking her silence as an answer, Buffy shuffled over in the foliage to kneel next to Nerys, opening a much better stocked medkit than hers. She did quick work, pulling away the haphazard bandage Nerys had slapped on before she'd fallen asleep, the dried blood pulling at the wound mark. 

"Damn," she said with a hint of awe in her voice. "You can really take a hit," 

Nerys studied the blonde's face more thoroughly, noticing a series of light scars peppering her otherwise flawless face. There was a larger scar, a long deep gash that ran from her ear to somewhere down under her shirt that was most noticeable. 

"Got that from a Cardassian gang," she said, noticing where Nerys' gaze lingered - not that she couldn't, the blonde was leaning over her giving her a full frontal view of her neck. But she didn't seem to mind Nerys' inquiring looks. 

"Six of those bastards, had me tied up and everything. This big nasty one came at me with a Klingon scythe; tore me nearly in half with it. I love that weapon, one of my favourites"

Nerys smiled at that, her estimation for the woman growing every second. She herself had kept a few trophie weapons from her kills - most were just too damn good a tool to just leave with the body, but one or two were sentimental, to remind her why she was fighting. 

"What about -" Nerys asked, hissing as Buffy poured an antiseptic wash on the wound, "-that one?" her undamaged arm reaching out to lightly touch two small puncture-like wounds on her neck a few centimetres from the large scar. 

"Oh that," she said, smiling whist fully, "just an angry puppy. What about you? Any cool scars other than the one I'm working on?" She asked. 

Nerys let her change the topic, not wanting to pry and respecting that there are just some things you just don't want to talk about - even with a stranger in the woods. 

"Well, I've got this weird one that looks like a crown on my thigh..." she started, delving into the story of how that particular wound happened. 

They continued that way, swapping war stories and information until Buffy stopped suddenly, her nimble fingers freezing still with the needle in hand at Nerys' shoulder, sewing it up. Buffy raised her eyes to Nerys', eyes widening slightly, trying to convey something. 

Nerys listened, stretching her concentration as deep into the forest as she could. But heard nothing. Buffy did though, her face falling into game face mode, a feircness that would be terrifying if it was ever turned on you. 

Then she heard it. The soft rumble of a Cardassian breathing underneath their armoured plating. But she saw nothing, their visitor hidden in the shadows of the trees. 

Buffy stayed still, pretending to be ignorant of what was behind them. Her free hand reached for the knife strapped to her side, pulling it silently from it's sheath. 

In the blink of an eye, Buffy had turned and thrown the knife into the darkness, a loud roar meeting them as a large Cardassian stumbled towards them, weapon raised. 

"You little Bajoran kitach!" it yelled, pulling the blade from where it had lodged itself right in his chest, before falling over dead on the floor. Nerys was thoroughly impressed with the woman's aim. 

Three more Cardassian soldiers stepped out of the trees and Nerys' stomach sank; maybe, maybe if she'd been up to full strength they'd be able to take them, but she was useless right about now and three trained Cardassian soldiers were no match for on unarmoured Bajoran woman, no matter how good her aim was. 

Buffy gave a dark smile before turning to the men. 

"Do you mind?" she asked, her tone rhetorical. "I'm having a nice evening with a friend and you're here to ruin it. Weren't you raised with any manors, or did you come to Bajor to steal those as well?" 

She would later blame it on the drugs, but Nerys laughed out loud at that. She'd been punished for it later when these men slaughtered them, but for the moment it felt good to laugh. Plus, she liked the other woman's spunk; Nerys was bold, to the point of stupid on occasion, but she never outwardly mocked her opponents. If she survived this, she decided she would start. 

"Shut up," the Cardassian on the right said. 

"Oh, if you insist," she said, "but only because you asked so nicely."

What happened next was so unbelievable Nerys couldn't be sure it wasn't the drugs in her system making her see things. Buffy spun about, legs sweeping out from under her to force the men to falter, using their temporary imbalance to knock them over, one falling the ground. She did a handflip, spinning in the air as she swung around a branch, pulling it off to use as a weapon. She ground her boot into the throat of the man on the ground, an unpleasant crunching sound filling the air as she killed him. 

This seemed to incense the other men, one shooting at her with a blast rifle, burning her arm.

"This is my favourite sweater!" She yelled at the man, fingering the large singed hole in the sleeve. "It's my only sweater!" 

She kicked the gun out of the mans hands, moving so quickly he didn't get a chance to see her whip around behind him and stab the wooden branch through his chest, simultaneously using his almost-dead body as a shield against the gun blast from the other Cardassian. 

"Ew, cooked lizard on the menu tonight," she said, turning up her nose at the smell in the air. 

Nerys watched in absolute awe as Buffy took care of the other Cardassian, swiftly and efficiently battling him for dominance, landing on too of him and giving his neck a brutal snap with her tiny hands. 

An old legend creeped to the forefront of Nerys' mind, a folktale told to Bajoran children to help them sleep at night. 

Slayer. 

But no, it couldn't be, she couldn't be. It was a myth. 

But looking now, at this woman who tore through three Cardassian soldiers like they were made of ghee with nothing more than a piece of wood....she didn't have any trouble believing the myth. 

Most myths are borne from fact, and no one knew how old the tale of the slayer was, but since the occupation it had decidedly become more popular. The myth told of a woman, one woman chosen in each generation, to fight the forces of darkness, to slay the demons that defied the Prophets and brought harm to the Bajoran people. She was a protector....and Nerys may have just found her. 

There had been rumours of sightings for years, of a Slayer that worked more in the open, who actively fought against the Cardassians, saving children and pets as she travelled, like a nomad, across the world. Nerys was a woman of faith, believing completely in the Prophets and their teachings, but part of faith was being able to understand the difference between literal and allegorical verse. The Slayer had comforted her as a child, the elders in the camp staying she'd be safe at night because the Slayer would watch over her. When she grew up, she thought it to be an allegory for the internal strength of the Bajoran people to protect themselves. 

Now, she was doubting that assumption. 

 

As if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, Buffy turned back to Nerys, brushing her hands off on her pants before picking up the needle again.

"You haven't by chance come across a redheaded woman named Willow have you?" Buffy asked, "She asked me to meet her here tonight though...." 

She looked at Nerys, then over at the dead Cardassians, rolling her eyes as a wave of clarity passed over her face. 

"Far be it from me to question the Prophets," she said with a chuckle.


End file.
